


guilt is a weight that brings me down (but it's not why i fell for you)

by potstickermaster



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Lena has a lot of issues, Lena-centric baggage, but Kara saves the day, comfort-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-26 04:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potstickermaster/pseuds/potstickermaster
Summary: (She fears Edge is right, that everything she does at this point is mere reparation for her sins, and no matter how much she tries to help out, at the end of the day she’d end up being nailed to a cross or hung like a witch, burned at the stake by the only person she knows and trusts, all for the crimes she had done.Or maybe the guilt she has to live with is punishment enough.)Kara grieves and Lena deals with the guilt.





	1. wrongs i try to right

**Author's Note:**

> First Supercorp fic and I haven’t written in a while, so feedback is most welcome.

Lena thinks that, at least by now, she knows how grief and pain and _loss_ feels, despite the fact the whole world thinks she is some cold, unfeeling bitch (they are not wrong, sometimes, because it’s better not to feel). She loved her family dearly—loves, perhaps, though some days she finds herself feeling otherwise—and it _hurt:_ Lex’s downfall, Lillian’s betrayal.

Then there was Jack. Brilliant, loving, ambitious Jack. She did love him, loved him, beyond both their faults, and it broke her when she had to move away from the place that choked her with prejudice.

It broke her further to make the choice between him and National City’s darling daughter. If she were a Luthor, a _real_ Luthor in flesh and blood and anger and vengeance,  like everyone else have been saying, she could have chosen the love of her life over Supergirl. He was innocent, after all, only wanted to try to save the world in his own way, like what she has been trying to do—build a name for herself and veer away from the one she has to live with.  

But no, she had to make a decision, one that she does not regret, not at all, but it does not mean it did not come with the pain of loss, and the images of Jack joining Lex and Lillian in her nightmares, calling her a worthless traitor who deserved to live with the weight of their ruined lives and burn in hell with the rest of them.

She dealt with it like she dealt with her prior experiences: with the delicious burn of work and whiskey, because what better way to channel grief other than projects that could potentially change the course of human history, right?

So of course, Lena thinks that, at least by now, she knows how grief and pain and _loss_ feels, and she wonders if the sorrow that flits across Kara Danvers’ soft features was how it manifests. The bright smile she is used to is tainted, like an expression worn for the sole purpose of keeping out questions like _what’s wrong_ and _how have you been._

She first sees it when Kara visits, telling her of Morgan Edge buying off CatCo. It takes all of Lena’s pride and courage to say that dear god, _I miss you_ , and she hopes that her fucking stutter wasn’t _that_ obvious, but her words seemed to not matter then.

She apologizes about Mon-El. His name clearly brings back painful memories, with the hurt becoming more obvious on Kara’s eyes, the sadness peering through the mask she wears for a moment.

Lena hates herself for the part she had played in it. Rhea had used a weakness she didn’t really know she had. She hated herself for it, for bringing ruin and destruction to the city that she had hoped was her sanctuary, but she _loathed_ herself more for what it had brought to Kara’s life. Her need for a mother’s love took Mon-El from Kara, and Lena hopes there was something she could do to at least make up for it, because everything was all her fault.

(She fears Edge is right, that everything she does at this point is mere reparation for her sins, and no matter how much she tries to help out, at the end of the day she’d end up being nailed to a cross or hung like a witch, burned at the stake by the only person she knows and trusts, all for the crimes she had done.

Or maybe the guilt she has to live with is punishment enough.)

The CEO invites the blonde for brunch, her voice hopeful. Guilt is bile in the back of her mouth, bitter and acidic and it makes her want to hurl but maybe, just maybe, they could talk. Maybe the reporter would open up to her, like she used to. They were best friends, after all. Instead, Kara just shrugs, walks away, and there is a lingering ache Lena feels in her chest as she watches her do so. She couldn’t place what it was, just swallows the guilt as she returns to her seat to bury herself in her work. At least work needs her. Or so she hopes, anyway.

* * *

She feels her best friend fading away. The bubbly, happy, sunny Kara Danvers was gone, replaced by a shadow who buried herself in work. Much like her, Lena thinks, and she only realizes now how _unhealthy_ it has been.

She tries to help Kara out, once, with Lena bringing up _Mike_ or _Mon-El_ or whatever his name was, but the reporter just snaps. It’s personal, Kara says, and she’d rather not talk about it when she was at work. The words stung, surprisingly, and Lena barely manages to school her features into something neutral as she crosses her arms defensively, building back up walls she’s managed to bring down for one Kara Danvers.

“I did not spend 750 million dollars on a company as a favor to a friend,” she says coolly, but she knows in herself that was a lie. Guilt settles in her core as she speaks, but she grounds herself and thinks this is business, just business, and work is something she should be able to handle with her eyes closed and limbs broken so long as her brain is functioning.

It was easier to pretend she is talking to someone else, someone who isn’t Kara Danvers, who had sadness in her eyes and grief on her lips, but she does it anyway. She tells Kara to do her job, properly this time, and she immediately regrets it with how the reporter seemed to curl up into herself. Lena walks away, but stops on her way to wherever her feet would take her with her lack of desk at CatCo.

She watches Kara walk away once more, and she bites her lip to distract herself from the pain that finds its way back to her chest, as if clawing to get out. She excuses herself, tells James that she’ll return to L-Corp for the rest of the day, and when she gets to her office she asks Jess to bring in the paperwork she had to work on.

Whiskey kept her company that night, thoughts of Kara lingering in her head as she read through various contracts and business proposals. With her blinds closed, she doesn’t notice the time pass, and the pile of work she was working on lessened, at the very least. There is a knock on the door and Lena sighs, looking up. It was Jess, who looks at Lena, surprised.

“Y-your coffee, Miss Luthor,” she says, almost squeaks.

Lena furrows her eyebrows. Only then does she notice the way her eyes stung. She blinks a couple of times. “Jess. You’re still here? It’s quite late.”

Jess mostly just looks confused as she walks in, setting the mug of hot cappuccino on Lena’s table, piled with different folders and papers. Her secretary tells her it’s eight in the morning now, and Lena snorts, rather uncharacteristically, and her eyes widen when she realizes Jess isn’t joking. She curses under her breath, and with her newfound awareness, she feels hunger and fatigue rush in. She sighs and does her best to get up on her shaky knees. She instructs Jess to handle the paperwork she had finished and to cancel her morning meetings as she prepares to go home.

She asks her driver to pick up something on their way back to her penthouse. She fiddles with her phone on the way, shoots a few emails. Kara’s inbox has been quiet for some time, her second invitation to brunch left unanswered for the third day. She smiles sadly, remembers the way Kara’s ocean eyes, which always seemed to shine with happiness and ease before, had become clouded with grief. Something heavy settles on the pit of her stomach and she chalks it up to hunger.

 Lena comes home and forces herself to eat, before collapsing on her bed in her fatigue.

* * *

She wakes up from a phone call, the device vibrating in her pocket. With a soft grumble she fishes it out and answers it, clearing her throat before she speaks. “Lena Luthor speaking,” she says softly, her voice scratchy from sleep.

“Hey,” the voice answers, and all traces of unconsciousness leaves her as she sits up at the sound of Kara’s voice. “I’m sorry- W-were you asleep? This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have-”

Lena cuts her off there. “It’s alright,” she assures, and she runs her hand through her hair nervously. “Did you need something?”

Kara hesitates before speaking again. “I.. Yes. I talked to your source and I had a few leads.” A sigh. Lena bites her lip in worry but she stays quiet. “I was wondering if you wanted to discuss it. Over brunch.”

The brunette’s eyes widen at the offer. Lena was the new owner of CatCo, sure, but she is also quite certain that if Kara needed to run anything by anyone, it should be with her editor. Still, it was brunch with Kara, an invitation from her of all things after many rejected and unanswered offers from Lena, so she accepts. She asks Kara where she wants to meet. Noonan’s, she replies, in an hour, and Lena only realizes it was only almost ten in the morning. The CEO agrees and hangs up with a promise she’ll be there promptly.

She showers and dresses herself in a white blouse and a black high-waisted skirt. Business as usual, despite her excitement about her brunch with Kara. She catches herself smiling as she put on blood red lipstick, her war paint of sorts, only then realizing what this brunch might entail. She grows even paler as she imagines the redness on her lips as Mon-El’s blood.

(Logically, she knows she did not kill him. She could _never._ She sent him away at the very least, though Kara would say that was Supergirl’s call, but isn’t death a surer end than being lost in space?)

Guilt seeps through her veins yet again when she thinks of the worst. Kara might end their friendship with this brunch. She might blame Lena, confirm the CEO’s thoughts of this being all her goddamn fault, and the expensive lipstick falls on the immaculate white floor of her bathroom, staining the tiles with bright red. She wipes her lips hurriedly with tissues, harshly, leaving her lips pink and raw.

She forces herself not to cry when Kara cancels their brunch ten minutes before they were set to meet because of some emergency. She tries her best not to think of the worst, but her hands shake as she types a reply and tells Kara it’s okay.

(It’s not.)

She returns to L-Corp instead, sending herself to the forefront of most promising projects despite the weird look Jess sends her way. She buries herself in work, manual this time, as she helps her scientists figure out what’s wrong with what, like she used to do when she was nineteen, in the garage of an apartment she rented with Jack Spheer. It almost makes her feel normal, like she had a purpose.

(Like she wasn’t a Luthor with the blood of the innocent in her hands.)

It’s late in the evening, when the last engineer bid her goodnight, that she realizes she had spent the whole day focused, for once. It was refreshing, almost, but at least she doesn’t end up thinking about Kara or Mon-El or the worsening guilt in her stomach or the pang in her chest when she finds no message from her best friend about a rain check.

She supposes she doesn’t deserve that title now, and Kara cancelling their brunch makes sense all of a sudden. Lena laughs hollowly, the sound echoing through the laboratory she had holed herself in. It shouldn’t affect her so much, losing a friend, since she didn’t have many—or god, _any_ —to begin with, but somehow she’s reminded of the loss she felt with Jack.

There was the sting of unshed tears in the back of her eyes, burning, but she wills herself not to cry. It wasn’t her place to cry, not when it was her fault Kara lost Mon-El, but a voice in the back of her head tells her it’s okay, because she lost Kara too. She sniffles but she doesn’t cry, instead tells her secretary and her driver to go home and not wait for her anymore.

She manages to finish a prototype the team had been working on, and it was two in the morning when Lena decides to take a cab back to her apartment. She waits on the curb without a coat, the cold air making her shiver, but she only stares forward. Her hands felt numb, and when she looks down on them, she sees blood, and she silently thanks the darkness of the area where she stands as she finally lets herself cry. Barely. Hot tears roll down her cheeks and she hastily wipes them, cursing herself as she summons the Luthor part of her, willing herself to _fucking shut up._ She shouldn’t cry. She wasn’t allowed to cry, not when this was all her fault.

* * *

Supergirl has been working nonstop. That much she at least heard of, with the small TV playing at the lab where she had stayed for the past week or so. She wasn’t sure how long it’s been. Supergirl was trying to help the city recover after the Daxamite invasion, and Lena took it upon herself to at least help out, since, well, it was her fault after all. She had buried herself in work (and whiskey, hidden in a flask that her employees pretend they don’t see), weekends became regular work days, and paperwork was settled during the night when everyone had gone. She doesn’t remember the last time she had a proper meal, or even gone home, having sent Jess to buy her new clothes so she could shower at the L-Corp gym when she needed to shake some feeling into her exhausted body.

She tries to ignore the way Jess looks at her, instead basks in the awe of the team of scientists she leads. They dissect the technology Jack had used with his nanobots so L-Corp could replicate it, not for medical reasons but for infrastructural—have machines build buildings and roads and bridges ruined during the invasion without risking human casualties, at a faster rate.

The project consumes her mind and body, at least enough that she doesn’t have to think about how Kara still hasn’t reached out. There have been emails from James, Jess had informed her, about him checking up on Lena and asking why she hasn’t been around despite her promise to stay there full time for now. She swallows the guilt when she remembers Kara and she shakes her head. She tells Jess to reply to him, to tell him that she was needed in L-Corp.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. At least her work needed her.

* * *

She doesn’t know what day it is, but her phone rings incessantly on her back pocket. She sighs and puts down the experiment results she was reading through before fishing her phone out, only to almost drop it when she reads who it was.

Kara.

Lena clears her throat and answers it with a soft hello.

“I’m here in your office but Jess says you won’t be coming back until the evening, and when I said I could wait for you since it’s past six anyway, she said by ‘evening’ she meant almost midnight,” Kara replies, all in one breath. It almost seems like the old Kara she knew and Lena smiles wistfully. “The fact that she looked worried telling me about it makes it seem like this isn’t the first time.” The tone was almost accusatory, and Lena sighs.

“I’ve been busy,” she says softly.

There is only silence on the other line, and when Kara speaks again, her voice is softer.

“Will you at least get dinner with me?” She asks. The feeling of hope blooming in Lena’s chest is dampened by guilt yet again, and she stares at the monitor. She doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and Kara continues. “Please. I.. I know I’ve been… Away. For some time. And I-” There is a muffled sound from the other line, and Lena wonders if Kara was crying. “I need my best friend,” she says finally.

Just like that, Lena stands, grabbing her purse. “Three minutes. Wait for me in my office.”

Kara makes a sound of agreement. The brunette ends the call as she hops into the elevator, and she spends the ride up her office trying to push away the guilt, the images of blood in her hands. It’s her chance to make amends, perhaps; a chance to deserve to be Kara Danvers’ best friend again, or at the very least, her friend.

It would mean the world.

She clenches her fists around her purse as she walks to her office, telling Jess she could go home. Hesitating by the door, Lena takes a shaky breath before putting a smile on her face and stepping into the room.

She doesn’t remember how long she hasn’t seen Kara, but the blonde still looks tired, ocean eyes grayed with the storm clouds. She was about to greet her but the reporter frowns as she takes in Lena’s appearance.

“What- Are you okay?” Kara asks, voice laced with concern. The CEO looks confused and she glances at what she was wearing. Granted, this wasn’t her usual power suit, but the flats she wore were more comfortable when she was standing and walking around, and the shirt and slacks she had on were at least presentable. Flawless, still, and crisp white, as if she is compensating for the darkness in her.

“I’m fine,” she answers, but Kara steps forward, lifting her chin with her hand. Lena realizes what she means and she lets out a humorless chuckle. “I’m fine,” she repeats, though with Kara intently studying her, she feels her heart race, and she clenches her hands around her purse once more as she imagines blood, yet again, trickling down her fingertips.

Kara steps back as apologizes before pushing her glasses up her nose. She looks at Lena, who stands shorter now with her flats. “You haven’t been sleeping,” she says softly, and Lena just shrugs.

“So many things to do, Miss Danvers, yet so little time,” she replies with a smile that she hopes doesn’t look as it feels—forced. “Supergirl doesn’t seem to be taking breaks, why should I?”

“She has super powers,” Kara says quickly, and Lena looks down at her feet.

“But I started all of this,” she says with another shrug. “I’d be able to sleep when I’ve...fixed things.” She grits her teeth as she stares at her hands—clean, clean hands marred with the loss of Kara’s beloved Mon-El. Consequently, Kara from her life, but considering she stands inches away from Lena, she figures one is crossed off her list of sins. She hopes. She is terrified of what else she can take from Kara, accidentally or otherwise, and despite the burning need for contact, for an embrace to anchor her through the storm of guilt and chaos she is going through, she stands still and keeps her distance.

Kara only stares at her, and Lena thinks she sees confusion in those blue depths until she couldn’t take it anymore. She clears her throat and shakes her head.

“I- Right, well, dinner,” Lena says. “Chinese?”

Kara lets out a small laugh, which seems genuine, but a mere echo of how she laughed before.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Dinner was quiet. They had gone to a Chinese restaurant Kara suggested, softly, and Lena insisted it was her treat. They at least talked about the article on Edge that Kara had been working on and had finally published. Lena had remained quiet, for the most part, listening intently about the reporter and her issues with Snapper. Kara had asked why Lena hadn’t visited CatCo again, but the CEO only shrugged and said she was busy with urgent projects. Kara didn’t seem convinced, only stared at the brunette, who fidgeted under her gaze.

“How are you?” Lena finally asks, after a long stretch of silence. She clutches the glass of wine in her right hand as she forces herself not look away at the question. It had been too long since she had heard from her, and despite all her distractions, she had been thinking about her. It was good, _great,_ to finally hear from Kara, and she needed to know.

Kara, at the very least, doesn’t seem surprised by the question. She shrugs.

“Better,” Kara says softly, after some time, as if she had been considering another answer. Lena waits with bated breath on her next words but the blonde was quiet. She opens her mouth so speak but Kara beats her to the punch.

“I know I’ve been...distant,” she starts, and pushes her glasses nervously. She sighs and looks down at her lap. “It’s not just to you. I was distant...to everyone. I- I know that doesn’t make you feel better, but it’s just...easier to shut everyone off while I… Grieve, I suppose.” A humorless chuckle escapes her lips and she forces herself to meet Lena’s gaze. “It’s just- It’s not knowing what happened to him, or what would happen to him, that hurts the most.”

The CEO swallows at the emotions in those blue eyes and she steels herself for the inevitable, her chest constricting as she struggles to breath. Guilt stabs her and hurt blooms in her chest, staining the pristine white blouse she wears.

She could drown in those eyes, and maybe, she should. She deserves to. It was, after all, her fault that Kara had to grieve. Did everyone else blame her too? Kara’s friends must have felt worried and terrible about the blonde shutting them off. Do they know it was all Lena’s fault?

Kara blinks away unshed tears and she bites her lip. “I just… I just want to apologize, Lena,” she says when she speaks again, and it takes all of Lena to not react. Her fists clench on her lap and she stays still, waiting for Kara to continue. “I shouldn’t have done that, but I felt like I needed time to… think things through. To process things. I know I’ve been unfair, and I should have talked to you and told you I needed time instead of just… Disappearing on you. You’re my best friend, and I’m sorry if… I’ve been a terrible one.”

Lena’s jaw twitches with the effort of keeping her features neutral, and not for the first time, she is grateful for the Luthor home she grew up in that she was able to muster this much indifference. She offers Kara a smile and tilts her head. “I understand, Kara,” she says softly. “You don’t have to explain anything. I know you l-love Mon-El and I—” Lena inhales sharply and looks away. Her chest aches once more, mostly with guilt, and she shakes her head as she forces herself to finish her sentence. “I took that away from you by helping Rhea and- and creating that poison that— sent him away.” She stares at her hands, sees blood on them. Mon-El may not be dead. He may be. All the same, the blood on her hands is warm and heavy. She feels the sting of tears in her eyes and shakes her head again as if to pull herself together. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Kara cuts in, and Lena looks up to meet determined blue eyes. “Lena. It wasn’t your fault. Your intentions were pure, and- and it was Rhea who broke your trust, exploited you. Rhea commanded the Daxamites to invade us, not you, and it was—” Kara pauses and grits her teeth, but her voice is softer when she continues. “It was Supergirl’s call, what happened. It was for the best. Please don’t blame yourself, but just know that I forgive you.”

Lena could only stare at Kara. Pure, precious Kara, who still saw the good in everything, in _Lena,_ even after what she had done. She chuckles, her voice raspy with tears. “How can you forgive me, Kara? I took someone you love. I know how loss feels.” She remembers Lex. Lillian. Jack.

“Because none of this is your fault,” Kara insists. “And you’re my friend. My best friend. And I can’t lose you too.”  There is that pain again, in her chest, and she wonders if that is still guilt at the weight of Kara’s words. Lena smiles sadly.

Kara. Pure, precious, beautiful Kara.

“I know,” she says, for the first time sure of what she wants. “That’s why I’m going to fix this, Kara.”

* * *

They try their best to fall back into old habits. The microbots are released, National City rebuilds itself with L-Corp at the helm. Lena is at the forefront of everything, every press release and launch. CatCo still gets every exclusive courtesy of one Kara Danvers. They grab the occasional brunch, and each time, she sees how Kara's smiles never seemed to reach her eyes anymore. She tries to imagine once more the emptiness she felt after Jack had passed, just to put herself in Kara's shoes, but realizes that she didn't have to, and it is this multiplied feeling of loss—imagined, remembered, and experienced—that pushes her to work.

(She didn’t want to feel. She _hated_ to feel, but at the very best, her grief and guilt fuel her work.

It’s what people would prefer of a Luthor, she assumed. Have them too consumed by grief and work so they don’t have time to plan taking over world.)  
  
She calls Kara one early morning, months later, whiskey on her breath, the smell of chemicals and metal on her hands, the illusion of blood on them. Kara answers with a cheer in her voice, and Lena wonders if she should push through with the call. Her friend had been doing great so far, but Lena knows the feeling of loss is never gone. It remains, a hole in your being that never seems to go away.

Was it just her?

With a thick swallow, she asks if she could drop by Kara's apartment.  
  
Kara agrees, and half an hour later Lena rushes into her home, finding her sister, Alex, present. The CEO pays her no mind and puts two metal boxes on the kitchen table.  
  
"Are you okay, Lena?" Kara asks, worried, and the woman whirls around with panicked eyes. "You still haven't been sleeping," the reporter noted.  
  
"I'll sleep when I fix things," she says softly, and she pushes forward a small metal box, her green eyes dull but fixed on it. "This is a homing device. I know Supergirl sent Mon-El off using her pod, one similar to Superman's. Lex.. He.." She shakes her head. "Point is, I've configured it so similar Kryptonian pods could use it as a sort of lighthouse. To guide them back...here. On Earth." She explains that it's the best she can do with the limited knowledge she had of such technology, and it might send a signal to other Kryptonian pods, but she hopes any that finds their way to National City were friendly aliens—other Kryptonians, perhaps. Specifically, she hopes, Mon-El. For Kara's sake. She doesn't look at Kara but she hears Alex make her way to where they stood. She swallows thickly and pushes forward the smaller metal box.  
  
"This creates a temporary atmosphere at enough radius around an individual. It's rechargeable, but temporary, but enough so we can find some, some sort of vaccine against the toxic reaction for lead." She bites her lip  stares hard at the box. "I tried reconfiguring the device we used to fill the atmosphere with lead, but that would require more time and resources and could entail possible repeat of a Daxamite invasion, so I made something of a smaller scale."  
  
Lena lets out a shaky breath. It was quiet, too quiet, and when she looks up, she sees Kara staring at her, tears in her eyes. The brunette shuts her mouth for a moment but forces herself to continue lest she ends up collapsing from fatigue. Or breaks down. She doesn't know what's worse.  
  
"I told you I'd fix it, Kara," she says, proudly, though her voice was soft. Tired.  
  
Kara doesn't say anything, but she looks longingly at the devices Lena had explained. It was Alex who speaks.  
  
"Does this mean Mon-El can come back?"  
  
Lena turns to her. She pushes her hands to her coat pockets and, now hidden, she clenches them into fists. Tired green eyes glance at the blonde. "Mon-El can come back, Kara."  
  
Kara still doesn't speak. Lena feels like she's stepped on a line. Shame drowns the guilt she feels, swirling in her gut, heavy like the burden she felt. All she's done to return National City back to its feet would be for nothing if she can never fix her biggest mistake.  
  
"I- I should probably go," Lena says, almost chokes out, and she hurries out the door. She is already on the hallway when she hears Kara say thank you, and Lena nods, not turning around, and instead leaves.

* * *

She is allowed to sleep, finally, but the first time she closes her eyes she drowns in tears of exhaustion and hopelessness. Behind her eyelids she sees Kara smiling and laughing again, with Mon-El—Mike—but it doesn't matter now. She has finally fixed her mistake, and she can sleep again, free her conscience from the greatest mistake she had done.  
  
But why does it feel so much worse?


	2. right here feels wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe everything is okay now, in Kara’s world. Maybe it doesn’t mean the same thing in Lena’s, but the sun is back in its rightful place and that is all that matters.

Lena had hoped that helping Kara get Mon-El back would give her a clean slate, free herself from the guilt she feels, but nothing happens. Not yet at least.

She doesn't hear from Kara that night, or the next day. Or the day after that. She thinks it’s better that way, that she doesn’t have to know what happened. She had enough faith in herself to know her devices worked, yet not enough to believe that she could remain stoic if Kara thanks her for bringing him back, or worse, sees them together.

She told Kara that she was afraid of what she’d become when she feels again, but she realizes she never stopped feeling, and she _hates_ it. Hates that despite everything, she still felt disappointment and frustration and anger and hopelessness and dear god, _love._ She realizes that the guilt in her chest isn’t just guilt after all.

It would have been so much easier if it was just guilt. She could have moved on when she walked out of Kara’s apartment. Yet now that she was looking at the cards life has dealt her with, she realizes that nothing is meant to be easy. Not with her. There was the familiar pang of unrequited love—she was fifteen, the first time, and she was eighteen and beautiful and _straight_ —and she consoled herself with the fact that at least, it was familiar territory.

Though, she doesn’t quite know where she had learned unconditional love from. After all, the Luthor house wasn’t the best example of such.

Though at the end of the day, she tells herself, any emotion she feels for one Kara Danvers doesn’t matter anymore. What would be the point? She had _him_ and lost him and now that he would be back, Lena guesses she won’t ever let him go.

She supposes she could live with that, but wishes it was just guilt she feels now. She’s not quite sure she could carry any more weight on her shoulders. She is Atlas and this is her punishment for losing the war.

(All is fair, all is fair.)

The ache in her chest keeps pulling in her gut, and the guilt—she bundles all those emotions into that; everything else she dares not name, not after she identified and isolated them—never seems to leave her throat, choking her just when she remembers to breathe again.

She reminds herself that though loss is permanent, grief is temporary, and her grief over the loss of the only semblance of friendship she’s ever had will be over soon. She’s not quite sure when and how long it would take, but it will be over.

It has to, for her sanity’s sake.

She had tried to sleep, but when she does, she wakes with nightmares of Kara blaming her. Not knowing is worse, she says, and when Mon-El comes home to Earth, he is lifeless, a decaying body in a pod that is a reminder of a dead world and Kara screams at Lena for taking too long, for actually killing him this time, and it kills her too.

She cries, on the third night it happens, because the hatred and contempt in Kara’s eyes were almost too similar to those of Lex and Lillian. And Jack, too, perhaps.

Lena throws herself into work once more, this time back in her office, high up from the ground where she drowns herself with business deals that she could win with cold, calculating precision and proposals she could shoot down with scathing remarks that burn dreams into ashes.

(She didn’t want to feel. She _hated_ to feel, but at the very best, her cold detachment to everything else seemed to do her company good.

It’s what people would prefer of a Luthor, she assumed. Business as usual, so long as they don’t try to dominate the world.)  
  
It was six days after her visit to Kara that Jess knocks on her office door. Lena looks up from the proposal she was reading.  
  
"Miss Danvers here to see you, Miss Luthor," she says, as if she herself is surprised. Lena furrows her eyebrows and checks her phone. No messages or missed calls from Kara informing her of this visit. Her blood runs cold. She has imagined this moment for so long her mind is almost sure this is a memory, but she shakes of the feeling of nightmares and sets aside the papers on her desk.  
  
"Send her in, please," she says weakly. Jess nods and steps out as Lena stands to grab a drink. Her whiskey stash has definitely taken a beating in the past couple of months (she is not an alcoholic; a criminal or a sinner, maybe, but never an alcoholic) and she empties her glass just as Kara walks in.  
  
"Hi," Kara greets, setting down two paper bags on Lena's table. The brunette’s gaze is fixed on the white wall behind the blonde for a moment, until it finally flickers to Kara. Lena almost forgets to breathe. Kara’s smile was warm again, as if the sun itself has blessed her with its presence, and for a moment, Lena is given reprieve of the guilt she carries.

Maybe Mon-El is home then. Relief and dread fills her all the same, and her heart aches. It’s not quite the same ache of unrequited love when she was fifteen. It was worse. Like seeing the sun set in the most beautiful of ways, yet knowing it would no longer rise tomorrow.

Maybe everything is okay now, in Kara’s world. Maybe it doesn’t mean the same thing in Lena’s, but the sun is back in its rightful place and that is all that matters.

The small smile Kara’s face drops when she seems to take in the brunette. She hesitates, hands fixed on the paper bags in her hand, but she speaks. "You seem exhausted."

Lena just shrugs as she looks away. Look at the bright side and you’d go blind, she tells herself, and she picks up the pen she had been using to go back to work. Or at least, pretend to. She _is_ exhausted. She barely manages enough energy to pull herself together just to get herself through this meeting with Kara.

"It's... been busy," she says simply, and offers Kara a smile. Business. She could do business. She clears her throat. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

She is _exhausted._ She has never had to work for someone’s forgiveness before and she isn’t quite sure how to go about it. Does it end when the one forgives the other? Kara has forgiven her, but she can’t quite feel it, doesn’t feel like she _deserved_ it.

Kara seems to mull over her response, blue eyes flickering over Lena's tired expression. The bags on her eyes, Lena knows, are the most visible sign of her exhaustion, but she hopes she doesn’t say anything.

(There is a reason why she had chosen to do deals via email or phone lately, and the very few instances where she had to deal with business personally, she made sure her face was covered with enough make-up and a mask of professional cruelty that would make grown men cry.)

“I brought donuts,” Kara says finally, her lips quirked up as she lifts one of the two paper bags. Lena remembers herself making a reference to a humanity she doesn’t quite feel at the moment, the first time Kara brought donuts. She finds herself smiling, hand pausing over the piece of paper she is about to stain red (like blood). She thanks Kara and waves for her to place it on the edge of the table, but the blonde opens the bag and takes out a piece. It almost feels like old times, way back, when their friendship wasn’t marred by mistakes Lena had made. Kara bites on it and hums, tells Lena it’s good and that she should try it.

Lena almost cries, because it almost seems like everything was _fine_ between them. The mask she had managed to wear perfectly this time around cracks around the edges, betraying the well-refined lie she had lived in the past few months.

“I’m cutting back on sugar,” Lena says instead. It’s an obvious lie, one that Kara sees through as she nods and nibbles on a bite of her glazed donut, but she doesn’t say anything. Not for a few moments. The businesswoman fears that Kara would snap at her, demand her why she would so blatantly lie when she had done so many wrong things already.

A part of her knows she shouldn’t really care. Not anymore. What’s one more sin when the Luthors probably had a penthouse waiting for them in hell? Besides, she had outlived her purpose for Kara. She had been a resource person for the reporter for her CatCo stints, enough that Lena hoped would have given the reporter enough credibility. And with that smile on Kara’s face, Lena is sure Mon-El is back on Earth too, and she is probably there to thank Lena, then say goodbye to her permanently lest she fucked things up again.

She wouldn’t take it against Kara, not really.

A part of her aches for Kara, however, and she needs _just one embrace_ to anchor her back to reality, even if it’s just for the last time. Her best friend. She misses her best friend. She isn’t quite sure if she still deserves that title, if she even had it anymore, and she finds herself pulled back into the present with the telltale sting of tears in her eyes.

“What’s in the other bag?” Lena says, between the silence. Kara is almost done with her first donut and the CEO still hasn’t looked at her fully. The blonde takes the paper bag and pulls out the two devices Lena had delivered days ago. The brunette freezes and her brain halts. She drops her pen and stares at Kara in fear.

“Did they not work?” She asks, voice filled with panic. No. No, no, _no._ She was supposed to have fixed this mistake. She looks at her hands and they tremble. She sees blood in her pale hands, blood that she was so sure she had washed off. The room closes in on her and she couldn’t breathe, screams echoing in her head and _no no no_.

“I quadruple-checked everything, Kara, it should’ve—”

“Lena,” Kara says, voice firm and strong and like a sailor, Lena follows the siren’s voice into the sea. She drowns and she finally breaks, her mask shattering right in front of Kara. Trembling hands cover her face, crumpled in guilt and pain and defeat.

(Oh, how the mighty have fallen. This was her greatest fear—breaking. For so long she had lived with the Luthor name and buried this part of her, because Luthors were cunning and ruthless and she was raised to be one, but here she was now, broken and bare in front of the only person who knew her.

Her one friend.

She hopes Kara still knows her.)

She didn’t want to feel. She _hated_ to feel. She hated to feel, _hated herself._ If only Lex and Lillian had consciences, they would have deserved this punishment, but unfortunately, it is only Lena who lives with it. The weight of her world that is Kara Danvers, perched precariously on her fragile shoulders. The guilt chokes her and she can’t breath, can’t feel her hands. Tears burn against her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. She feels hopeless.

(In the back of her mind she remembers Supergirl. The symbol on her chest means hope, and she wonders, for a moment, if she could ask her for some sort of life raft to hold on to.)

Lena Luthor breaks.

Distantly, she feels arms wrap around her frame. Her lungs collapse with the weight of her every shuddering breath and she feels, for the first time, just how exhausted she is.

She hears Kara talk to her. Kara says she’s alright, that she was there with Lena, in her office. Everything is white, she says, with accents of gray and charcoal, and the air smells like whiskey and donuts. She counts, speaks, sings, and Lena is lulled into peace as sobs shake her.

“I’m so sorry, Kara,” she whimpers. She has never felt this weak, so vulnerable, and she knows she should feel ashamed, yet she can’t find it in herself to get up and put on the mask she wears. For once, she thinks maybe, just maybe, her life is a punishment in itself.

She is exhausted and she just wants to sleep.

“You’re alright, Lena, I got you,” she hears Kara whisper. Strong arms hold her but Lena doesn’t know or see anything else with her eyes closed. It’s only darkness. Lex and Lillian and Jack scream at her, and it’s only Kara’s voice in her ear that stops her from joining them in her head. “Mon-El’s safe, Lena. All because of you. Thank you. I got you, I got you.”

Mon-El is safe. Her mind echoes the words, like wind clearing the fog of guilt in her mind. There is still the urge to scream, for altogether different reasons, but strong arms hold her, anchoring her barely-there sanity. She feels soft skin against her cheeks, and warmth, as if she’s blessed by the sun itself, but darkness looms beyond, and the knowledge of it aches.

* * *

She wakes up in a hospital. The scent of bleach invades her nose and there is a throb in her head and her left hand, and she frowns when she blinks open her eyes to see needles stabbed into her flesh.

She hates hospitals.

She groans, her tongue feeling like cotton and her arms like lead. There is movement in the room, one that she doesn’t see, but when she looks to her right she almost forgets to breathe.

Kara is there, standing up and putting a book on the table beside her. There is a crinkle between her eyebrows that Lena wants to reach up to and smooth out with her thumbs. Above her a machine beeps, and she sees Kara look up at it. Lena thinks she sees Kara blush but she isn’t sure, what with exhaustion sitting on her eyelids.

“What happened?” Lena asks, after a long stretch of silence. She lifts her hand and frowns at the various needles and tubes fixed against the back of it. She realizes she doesn’t really feel them, but the fact that they’re there annoys her. She looks up at Kara when she doesn’t speak, and Lena swallows at the seriousness on the blonde’s face.

“Overfatigue, dehydration, stress, among other things,” Kara lists, holding out a finger on her right hand for each item. Lena is quiet and she feels like a chastised child for some odd reason. She nods, chews on her lower lip and fiddles with the hem of the blanket draped over her legs.

“Sounds like an exhaustive but exaggerated list. What happened?” The CEO asks, her voice soft. She remembers they were in the middle of a very important conversation and she isn’t really thrilled to go back into it, but the sooner she rips the band-aid off, the better. The blonde purses her lips, as if she couldn’t believe Lena was asking that question.

“You had a panic attack, I think,” Kara explains. “And then you fell unconscious and I… I brought you here. Well, Jess and I. She’s really worried about you, you know, and she practically told the doctors to keep you here for as long as possible just so you don’t stress out at work anymore.” The blonde pauses and laughs softly; Lena has to look away at the intensity of her gaze, like she’s trying to read the woman’s mind. It makes her uneasy, the feeling that Kara could, but then again, maybe it would be easier that way. Lena doesn’t have to fumble around words, lies, and excuses. Kara would give her one look, know all of Lena’s thoughts, and then she’d decide if Lena was worth staying for or if she’d just finally walk away.

Kara sits again and Lena is only slightly startled when warm hands slips over her right one. “We were really worried about you.”

Lena waits for Kara to continue, for her to bring up what had happened in her office, but nothing comes. She supposes she is thankful; she isn’t sure she can cope up with the emotional weakness when she’s on her physical rock-bottom as well, and really, she could almost feel Lillian’s disappointment in the air. She lays there in silence, the heart rate monitor finally slowing down as Lena relaxes, somewhat, despite Kara’s warm hands on hers.

* * *

The next day, Kara visits with her sister and her friends. Lena is surprised but doesn’t say anything. She’s on a tablet, reading through news on stock prices, and she lets out an incredulous yelp when Kara picks it from her grasp.

“You should be resting,” Kara says as she sits on the chair she had spent the entirety of the day before in. Lena looks almost offended, but there is also that odd feeling in her chest that this was wrong. She doesn’t say anything, especially when she notices that Mon-El isn’t there.

Maybe he was mad at her. Rightfully so.

Alex and Winn wish her well. James too, even if it seemed forced, like Kara just made him do it. They leave with hushed farewells after a while, leaving Kara with the businesswoman. They settle in the quietness, until Kara speaks.

“I missed you.”

The heart rate monitor betrays her and Lena curses in Gaelic, but Kara only laughs, mildly amused. She makes an attempt to hold back her laughter, bottom lip between her teeth, and Lena almost forgets to breathe when she looks at her, sunshine in the form of a woman entirely too kind for a cruel world, too kind for a person like Lena.

* * *

Lena is let out on the third day and she rises, heads back to her office to drown herself in work. She ignores the way Jess looks at her, almost helpless, and she wonders briefly if Supergirl ever stopped to think about herself when she went on her mission to save the world. She thinks not, because the heroine is selfless to a fault.

She remembers Kara, all too good to fault as well, and remembers how adamantly the woman says she’s forgiven her. How she _missed_ Lena. It was too good to be true but Lena lets herself believe. She’s only ever believed in facts, after all, and don’t all signs point to that, forgiveness?

She supposes it takes time. She remembers the way Kara laughed, the summer sun on the ocean of her eyes, and she aches with the want to be good, to be good enough. 

* * *

They get brunch a week after she’s sent to the hospital—a week after her little breakdown. Kara seems to spend more time with her now, like they used to before, but Lena tries to not get her hopes up. Maybe it was just Kara making sure she doesn’t go insane, like her brother, because God knows they don’t need three crazy-ass Luthors in the world.

She is halfway through her kale salad, Kara demolishing a cheeseburger, a bowl of noodles and potstickers—where in God’s green Earth she puts all that without gaining weight is probably a miracle in itself—when the thought crosses her mind.

“Where’s Mon-El?” She finally asks. Kara pauses mid-bite for a moment and she shoves the potsticker in her mouth, but her eyes are on Lena. The brunette bites her lip, torn between continuing and telling Kara to slow down because no one is going to steal her food. “You said… I haven’t seen him. Is he mad at me?”

Kara puts down her chopsticks and straightens. It’s the first telltale sign that something’s wrong and Lena almost braces herself for the impact of her next words, but the blonde only smiles wistfully. “He’s not here,” Kara says, and before the panic could claw upon Lena, there are warm hands on hers, lifting her up before she sinks. “We found his pod with the device you gave. There wasn’t a response for a couple of days and we thought the worst, but then… He reached out to us.” Kara squeezes Lena’s hands, only noticing now that they were trembling. “He’s found a new planet for himself and his people.”

Kara goes on to say that they talked long and hard about their relationship. Lena almost couldn’t bring herself to listen, but if she wants to be _good_ for Kara and so she does. The blonde’s lips twitch into a sad smile every so often, and Lena is sure now that the tug in her chest isn’t guilt anymore, and it’s a simple matter of deduction to find out what it is.

“And- And how are you?” She asks of Kara. The blonde seems a little surprised at that and Lena almost regrets asking, but then Kara is smiling again. She shrugs, the action light, easy, so different than the weight she felt on her own shoulders.

“Better now,” she says softly. The ocean in her eyes are calm, not quite the one before the storm but the gentleness that washes the wreckage on the shore. They lock with her green gaze and Lena forgets to breathe. “So much better now.”

* * *

She wakes up in her office to a knock on her door, Jess informing her of Kara’s arrival. Lena frowns at the state she’s in. She runs her hand through her hair and sighs. On one hand, she’s glad she’s able to sleep sometimes without being shaken by nightmares; on the other, she didn’t really quite want Kara to see her like this—a shell of who she was, like when she broke down in front of her that one time.

“Have you been sleeping?” Kara asks softly when she walks in, as if she’d run away at any louder voice. Lena just shrugs and smiles sadly at the woman.

“I try sometimes,” she says, voice just as soft. She stares at her hands. They no longer drip of blood but they shake of uncertainty and fatigue.

“But?” Kara encourages, and Lena looks at her. She laughs quietly and shakes her head, wondering how Kara knew there was a continuation there. She wonders yet again if Kara could read minds. She thinks of lying but instead ends up shrugging helplessly.

“The nightmares haven’t quite gone away,” she relents in an almost whisper. She wonders if Kara heard her, wonders if she could repeat herself, and she realizes her tremors had worsened. She pulls her hands back but the blonde’s are on hers.

“Let me take you home,” she murmurs. Lena stares at Kara, curious, but something in those blue eyes makes her unable to say no. She hasn’t even asked why Kara was there, but the woman was tugging her to her feet. She gives in, and for the first time in months the lights on the L-Corp’s 32nd floor are turned off for the night.

* * *

She doesn’t think she’s slept this soundly before. She feels her bone sag with exhaustion, warmth against her body, and she opens her eyes to see Kara Danvers dozing off beside her. She feels the need to run, at the same time the want to stay and settle further into the woman’s warmth, as if the blonde is the sun herself and has blessed Lena with her presence.

For once, she lets herself feel. It doesn’t quite seem like how she had imagined it, how she’d remembered it, with Jack and Lex and Lillian, but she doesn’t dwell too much on the thought as sleep claims her again.

When she wakes, Kara isn’t there. She assumes it was a dream, Kara’s soft features and smile-lined face next to her, and she cries.

She hears soft footsteps in the distance but she doesn’t move.

“Oh Lena,” she hears a familiar voice say before she feels the bed dip, and warm arms wrap around her shaking frame. There are lips on her forehead and soothing words in her ear. She doesn’t mind that she breaks, yet again.

* * *

It becomes an unspoken agreement, after that.

Kara must feel like Lena was her responsibility. Instead of the time she should have been spending with Mon-El, if Lena had just finished sooner, or with her actual family and friends, she spends it with Lena. The CEO is appreciates it but she is more worried that Kara is around for Lena’s own benefit. She doesn’t want that. She doesn’t need anyone’s pity or concern or company, most especially, Kara’s. It doesn’t seem fair, that after what she has done, she has to be the one to be comforted.

Lena welcomes the guilt with open arms, just as Kara does to her on nights when she desperately needed someone to hold on to.

* * *

“What are you thinking about?”

Lena breaks herself from her reverie and glances away from her window to Kara, who had just stepped in to her office. The CEO offers her a polite smile and shrugs but doesn’t speak, instead looks at the blonde expectantly.

Kara lifts a huge paper bag of what Lena guesses is take-out. She chuckles and quietly sets her laptop and tablet aside before standing so she could help the reporter in laying out the food on her coffee table. The food smells delicious, half of it Indian and half Japanese, and Lena briefly wonders where Kara could have gotten it from. The blonde tells her to dig in and so she does, surprised at the authentic taste of the food the blonde had gotten today. She doesn’t say anything though. They eat in almost silence, small comments here and there about the food and Kara’s little rants about Snapper until they fall into quietness yet again.

“It’s been a year now,” Lena breaks the silence. “Since…” She trailed off and lowers the chopsticks in her hand back to her bowl of donburi. She stares at her food. It’s been a year now, since the Daxamite attack. Almost a year since Mon-El had gone. There is the faint memory of the ache that has left her a mere shell, and she tries not to think of it.

She remembers Kara, the storm in her eyes.

It’s Kara who returns her to the shore now, soft hands on hers as she ever-patiently gently nudges Lena back to the present.

“Hey. Come back to me,” Kara murmurs. Green eyes focus on blue and Lena wonders just how strong Kara had to be, for her to be here with and for Lena. Lena, who had betrayed her and hurt her. Yet there Kara is, beautiful and kind and pure, looking at the brunette like she understands. It was unfair how, after everything she had done, Kara is still the one to comfort her. Unfair to Kara. She feels guilty and selfish, but it’s the selfishness, she knows, that keeps her from diving headfirst into insanity.

“Thank you for being here,” she tells Kara. The reporter just smiles, one that though laced with worry, reaches her eyes, finally, then squeezes Lena’s hand.

“You’ll always have me, Lena.”

* * *

Forgiving is not forgetting, that Lena knows. Kara has forgiven her, the blonde was adamant about it that Lena had no choice but to believe, and it wasn’t hard to when Kara had done nothing but make her feel like she was.

It takes time for her to forgive herself though, and much of the reason she finally has is Kara Danvers. She still thinks back to the greatest mistake she had done, every now and then, but Kara is happy now. The ocean in her eyes is at peace, and the sun was back in its rightful place.

Lena doesn’t think she deserves her, but she tries to be good for her. Tries to be good enough.

Kara teaches her to feel, or at least, to accept what she feels. And she does.

Once, between the silence of their conversation at the balcony of Lena’s office, she looks at Kara. The blonde seems to always know when Lena had something to say, and she looks back at her. Waits patiently, like she had all these months.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that I’ve wronged you,” she says softly, and for a moment she is worried Kara doesn’t hear. The reporter reaches out for her hand in acknowledgement and waits. “I’m glad for your forgiveness and acceptance, Kara, but I know that once upon a time, I took away someone you love from you. Even if you forget, I suppose I’ll remember for the both of us.”

“Lena—” Kara starts, but Lena cuts her off with a small whimper, the beginnings of tears in her voice.

“No, please, I—” The CEO pauses and chokes back a sob. She doesn’t fear shattering in front of Kara, not anymore. Kara has seen her for all she is.

(She doesn’t fear shattering in front of Kara, though she is admittedly a little terrified of what the woman would see when everything has been bared for her, when this final mask falls and she has nothing to hide behind with.)

“I just- I need to say this. It’s been long overdue, and I…” Lena shakes her head and looks up at Kara. She feels the weight of the woman’s hand on hers, the anchor that kept her grounded for so long. “I know you’ve forgiven me. And I believe you. I want to thank you for that, and for helping me forgive myself.” She takes a shuddering breath and her lungs feel like they’re about to cave in. Kara turns her hand in her grip and laces them together. It’s this contact that braces Lena, grounds her firmly in the belief that she will always have Kara.

“There’s a part of me that still doubts everything—that I don’t deserve your kindness, let alone your forgiveness. I’ve tried so hard to distance myself from the Luthors. It would have been so much easier to give in, be who everyone expected me to be, but I… I wanted to be my own person, for once, but I became exactly like them when I…” She swallows the lump in her throat and shakes her head. She glances at Kara, who looks like she is two seconds away from talking, but the businesswoman continues. “It was a tough lesson, for me, and God knows- God knows I almost gave up on everything, but please know— _Please,_ believe me, when I say that on my _life_ and those important to me, however few they may be, nothing like that will ever happen again. Not if I can do something about it.” She bites on her lip hard to hold back the tears and hopes Kara knows what she’s trying to say with so many words, because she can’t find it in herself to say what she truly means. Not yet. “I want to be good, Kara. I want to be good enough. For you. It’s- It’s the least you deserve.”

There is stillness in the air and Lena wonders if it’s the calm before the storm. For the life of her, she doesn’t understand why Kara’s eyes seem to water. She frowns, but the next thing she knows, she is being pulled by her hand and into Kara’s arms. Her grip is strong, a stark contrast to the way Lena feels fragile, like she’s about to shatter yet again. She closes her eyes and basks in the warmth of the sun herself.

“You’ve always been, Lena,” Kara says, and the softness in her voice does not betray the conviction in them. “Good _and_ enough.”

Lena sighs shakily and when Kara presses her lips on her temple, the touch fleeting, the weight on her shoulders seem to lighten significantly—as if the masks she wore were the same burden she had carried all her life, and now, as she stood vulnerable and broken in Kara’s arms, there was nothing else but  _herself._

* * *

 

Everything seemed okay, better now, in Kara’s world, and for once it meant the same thing in Lena’s. Some nights the nightmares prove too much for Lena—Lex and Lillian still haunt her—but Kara carries her through, arms sure and strong like they braved the loss of a whole planet, and she wakes to the blue of calm oceans and a smile so warm and trusting Lena feels like she is blessed by the sun herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what happened I'm so sorry. Also, imagine all the angst I could have added with the upcoming ep. I just want Lena to be happy 
> 
> tumblr - @potstickermaster


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